Disclaimer - I own no part of this fic, with the exception of the rather odd storyline! Please don't sue me!!

A/N - I appreciate that there are RotK spoilers here! I also have taken some liberties with the storyline, and while I have tried to keep this so that it fits in with events in RotK, it is partly an AU story!

Huge thanks go out to everyone who has taken the time to read and review! *hugs*

Chapter 4 - Darkness Unceasing

For perhaps three or four metres Pippin fell, overtaking and becoming covered in the crumbling strip of land. Over and over he rolled until a sharp pain in his side and the hard feeling of rock caused him to stop. He cautiously looked down, and was shocked to see the hurt he could have obtained had the rocky ledge not been there.

Above, faint voices were calling Pippin's name, anxiously venturing as close as they dared towards the precipice. The increasingly fragmenting land prevented them, however, and they were forced to retreat and find another way to reach the landslide's casualty, leaving no sign apart from the fluttering of dark cloaks as they blended into the night.

The feeling of grogginess had more than left Pippin now, only to be replaced by a feeling he had felt only too many times: fear. Fear for his precarious position, fear for his friends and fear of the Nazgûls that continued to circle high above the shadow. His injured shoulder still ached terribly, and his head felt as if it had a small mountain strapped to the side of it. Pippin raised his hand to the wound to investigate the condition of the bandage: it was still tightly wound, albeit covered in almost an inch of sticky mud. In fact, Pippin's entire body seemed to be caked in the damp, dark earth. He wondered if those up above would be able to see him, blending in to his surroundings as he was. That is, if he wanted them to see him. Who knew where the enemy lay, waiting for weakness.

Pippin gazed once again into the grey, starless sky, not knowing if the day had yet ceased, nor knowing if the night would ever end. He could see no signs of life on the ground below, and no way of safely climbing down to see if it was habitable. Unless he could find his own means of clambering onto the flat terrain, however, he would have no choice but to trust the distorted voices above. As a last check to make his choice, he surveyed the land. The only outstanding features of the strange place he had stumbled into were the flickering lights in what appeared to be a tower, not too far away. If Pippin could only reach the lights then he could rest for a few days and restock his food supplies before returning to Merry and Minas Tirith. The soldiers were surely far away now.

As Pippin's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkening of light around him, he was able to see more of the rocky ledge on which he had landed so fortunately. It appeared that the ledge was far more than the initial jutting out of rock that he had discovered; it was in fact a walkway, evidently created for the use of travellers to the mysterious buildings so far away. To Pippin's left was a set of worn stone steps, hewed out of the rock long ago by the craftsmen of inhabitants that had dwelled in the now wilderness an age ago. What was to his left, Pippin could not discern, but he suspected that, was he able to see around corners, there would be a similar set of steps ascending the incline.

A sudden scrabbling sound alerted the hobbit to the company that seemed to have joined him. By the sound of the footsteps, there was at least one presence, and Pippin also became aware by their heavy tread that they were booted. Had the wraiths on wings become black riders once again, or was Pippin less alone in the world than he imagined?

"There he is, look over there! Quick, get him!"

The voice was deep and harsh sounding. Pippin quailed: the Black Riders had returned then. As the footsteps belonging to the voice moved closer, Pippin turned and did what any sensible hobbit in danger would do - he kicked the figure sharply in the knee and then fled, hoping at least to find a hiding place before his pursuers recovered.

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It was near a decrepit bridge that Pippin halted; exhaustion, hunger and pain from his injuries preventing him from running further. What he wouldn't do for a plate of fried mushrooms and bacon..... and tomatoes wouldn't go amiss either....

Pippin attempted to heave himself from the ground where he had stumbled. If he could only keep going for another league or so, he would be able to reach the tower with the bright lights shining into the gloom. He looked up to view them and glimpse their warmth; a warmth that now looked positively frozen. From his close position, the lighted windows looked ghostly and empty, the lights only there to lull travellers into their grasps. Yet try as he might to move away from the watching eyes, Pippin's limbs felt leaden, much as they had when the Nazgûl had had him in their sights. As a cold wind began to swirl overhead, Pippin lowered himself back down against the ground and began to cry.

He was alone.

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When Pippin woke, a light of sorts had returned to the sky. The smell of breakfast cooking laced the air, and chattering voices sounded all around. He had been captured.

"Look, he wakes."

Strange, Pippin did not remember orcs or other fell beasts speaking softly before. He glanced up hopefully. Could it be?

The concerned face of Beregond met Pippin's gaze, and he wordlessly pushed a plate of cooked sausages and tomatoes in front of him.

"I want to go home." said Pippin.

"Lord Aragorn will shortly be addressing all of the soldiers. You can leave then if you wish, but you will not return home: it will be to Minas Tirith that the troops return."

Pippin looked forlornly to the muddy ground, before picking up the metal fork and beginning his meal.

"Master Peregrin," continued Beregond, "It would make no difference if you were to return to my city. We both know that it is not upon us that our fate rests."

"I cannot help but feel that my remaining here is of little use though...." said Pippin between mouthfuls of dripping tomato.

"It is of little use for any of us to remain here. But we must try."

"I just feel so...."

"So what?"

"Lonely," whispered Pippin.

"We are all alone." said Beregond.

"Not everyone. You are with the soldiers you have served with. I am a sole hobbit of the Shire. They wouldn't let Merry come."

"Yet Merry will be thinking of you. Now come, for Lord Aragorn must end the first stage of this debate."

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The soldiers of the South gathered on one of the great empty plains of the area on the edge of Ithilien. Should any winged servants of the enemy have flown overhead, they would have seen a number and fierceness of soldiers so great that fear would have been struck in even the Dark Lord's heart.

Aragorn and Gandalf addressed the assembled soldiers, inviting them to make a decision either to continue on the march into growing darkness or to return to the White City and suffer the final debate there. No shame would be placed on those who returned: after all, they had already been responsible for great deeds, but they would not appreciate the glory received by those who were to continue.

Following the speech, a farewell was said to those who had chosen to return. Pippin sat, anguished between whether he should stay or return. It would be wonderful to see Merry again, yet something in his heart was telling him to continue. If he could aid in the distraction of the Dark Lord, then he would play a part in ultimately saving the world he knew, and that was surely the route he should follow. As he rocked himself back and forth, staring at the shadowy sky, he was reminded of a song that his father, the Thain, had sung to him when he was younger and hungry for adventure. Pippin began to sing softly to himself.

"As tales of foe and fire have told
In some old inn where once we sat,
Hate will grow and love go cold
Old enemies will see to that
And friends will leave as once foretold.

~~::~~

Yet some so true and valiant
Will never cease to shine a light
Stars amongst the distant sky
Whose deeds so bold inspire flight.
That even the small will take up fight.

~~::~~

You will leave and drop my hand
Wandering deep into the gloom
Alone you'll feel and where you stand
You'll take upon a certain doom
To fall down or conquer far off lands.

~~::~~

Yet you should not fear, for I will be here
Waiting in the peaceful inn
For your return will come someday
And you will hear the people cheer
"All praise, the halfling saved our way!"

~~::~~

And should you wake upon your quest
To find that this was all a dream
You should not hope for quiet ways
For all is not what it may seem
The halfling's time will soon be mean.

~~::~~

Look to the stars when you are cold
And you shall see my name
Holding on 'til I am old
Until we end this deadly game
Lonesome moods will not sustain while the hobbits speak your fame,
And the merry old inn remains the same."

----

The remembrance of the old song brought joy to Pippin's heart, and also aided his resolve. He would continue on the march, and then perhaps he would one day be remembered in songs of his own.

He had to go on.

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A/N - I'm SO sorry this chapter took so long! I have been very busy attempting to escape from my pile of work and revision! I'll try and get chapter 5 up within a week, I promise!

Anyone who can work out where exactly Pippin's poem came from will get Chapter 5 dedicated to them! Sorry I have nothing better to offer!

Thank you once again - you all make me very happy! Please continue to review! If anyone is interested, this fic is the companion piece to 'Everything Goes, Everything Stays'....

Rachel xxx